


The Last Summer

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ableism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Community: hp_drizzle, Disability, Drowning, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tragedy in the family brings two siblings closer than they should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by arjd.

LILY

Albus hadn't been born right. That was what Mum had told me, back when I was eight or nine, looking at me while holding his fat little sausage fingers in her hand. "Lily—Lily, love," she had whispered urgently, "look at me."

I had done what she said.

And then she had told me, had explained to me very slowly and carefully, about how Al had been born too early, stunted and twisted like the vines that grew on my windowsill. I had nodded along. I had agreed. Al had been a year older than me, but he had been much smaller, like a baby. Most of his days had been spent on his back in his crib like an oversized toddler, sometimes shifting on his stomach if he had been feeling active.

It had all seemed rather obvious to me, but Mum had been crying a little by the time we had been done, though she had tried to hide it. She had hugged me, surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eye, and let me go. I had run away, not a care in the world.

But Al _was_ a spoiled brat, and no amount of disability would hide it. That was true, too. Mum and Dad hugged him and kissed him more than me, showered him with presents for things like swallowing his cereal without one of us having to prompt him. Of course I loved him—he was my brother—but I kind of hated him, too.

It was a month before my sixteenth birthday, a warm, sunny day in July. The sun shone down on the meadow outside my home, making grasses grow and flowers bloom. Honeybees darted from blossom to blossom, creating a faint, constant buzz of noise under all the hustle and bustle. Not that there was much of it. Everyone was a bit lazier now; even Mum loosened up the tight bundle of her arms a bit and let Al wander about without her.

James and I, of course, didn't participate in such things. The weather was too hot for going outside or flying, so we mostly stayed inside, writing stories and plotting tales, pulling elaborate pranks that would make even our Uncle George proud. And we included Al in them, too. Mostly against his knowledge, but still. He might have been born wrong, but he was still our brother. We relaxed in our kindness, in the stifling heat, feeling proud of our charity.

But soon enough, our summer started to fade away. Storm clouds were crowding in the sky, and I often woke up to the smell of rain on the soil. It was almost my sixteenth birthday, and I was nervous. I didn't want it to rain on my birthday. So I would look at the sky, hope and pray that it would clear and the sun would shine down upon us all.

JAMES

There had been signs of rain for weeks, but Lily's birthday dawned bright and clear. Lily was pleased, I could see, and so was Mum, though for different reasons. Al had been getting fussy lately, and she hoped the sunny weather would calm him down.

There wasn't anything for breakfast. Al was often ill lately, so Mum and Dad didn't have the energy to cook, not even magically. We didn't know how to do it, either. Lily was disappointed. Her lower lip pouted as she stared at the slice of cake she'd been given instead.

"Come on, now, Lily," I said bracingly, trying to cheer her up. "It's just cake. It's fine."

She glared sullenly at Al, who had been given a bigger piece. Mum had relaxed enough to let Al loose from the confines of her arms, so he was lying on the table on his fat little stomach, his arms and legs waving happily in the air.

"Mum," I said, mostly because I had nothing else to do. "Hey, Mum."

"James?" she said distractedly, chewing on some frosting. Mum was the only person I knew who had the ability to chew on anything. Quills. Fingernails. Hair.

"What're we going to do today?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see Lily reach out and grab Al's piece of cake, stuffing it in her napkin and batting his arms away. Al's eyes widened; his mouth opened, and Lily and I both knew he was going to cry. She clapped her hand over his mouth until his protests settled.

"Hm?" she asked.

" _Mum._ "

"Well, I suppose we could go outside," she said, glancing over to Lily and Al. Al was quiet, calm again, all his troubles forgotten, and neither piece of cake could be seen. "Al would like that—"

" _I_ wouldn't," Lily said petulantly.

"I would. Let's go, Mum," I said immediately. It _was_ Lily's birthday, but that was no excuse for her spoiled behavior.

"Well … all right, then," Mum said, looking over at my siblings. "Oh! Al!" she exclaimed. "You finished your cake. Good boy," she said, patting the top of Al's head. Al burbled happily, the fool.

Lily and I didn't say anything, but I glared at her. She was being cruel, treating Al this way, and she knew it.

LILY

We were supposed to go out to the creek right after breakfast, but we ended up leaving at around noon. Albus was so excited. His face scrunched up like a pig, and he began to grunt in happiness, squirming around in Mum's arms.

It was starting to get warm, but a breeze was blowing, and Mum looked worried. She stared at Albus, who wiggled in protest. His face was red, his mouth open and drooling.

"C'mon, Mum," I said impatiently. I wanted her to pay attention to _me_ , for once. "Mum. Let Al go. I want to play with him."

Mum sighed. "All right, but—just be careful, okay?" She put him down in my arms—he was surprisingly heavy—but stared at him so hard, I could almost feel the weight of her gaze.

I sighed. "I know, Mum. I will." I tramped off without waiting for her reply, Al scrunched up in the crook of my elbow, looking for my brother Jamie. He was already in the creek, the deep part, where we weren't allowed to go.

"Jamie!" I said, adjusting the strap of my bathing costume.

"Yeah?" he asked, poking out his head, then climbing out of the water onto a little ledge. The creek wasn't that deep. I'd dived there before, without Mum's permission, and it was shallow enough to almost touch the bottom if I reached hard enough.

"I have Al," I said triumphantly, holding him out to display.

His grin widened. "Brilliant!" he said, walking back to where Mum was waiting for us, sitting on the grass.

"Aren't you going to swim with me?"

"No," he said. "I'm tired. I'm going to sit for a while, okay?"

I shrugged. "All right, then," I said, walking out into the water. I felt surprisingly hurt. It was my birthday, but even James had abandoned me today. For a minute, I thought about running back and giving Al back to Mum, before discarding the idea. Al was my brother, too. I could have fun with him. Without Jamie.

The water felt cool on my skin. Al was quiet for once, lying placidly like a doll. Only his eyelids moved, flickering as he gazed at the June beetles and the dragonflies and bugs buzzing along the surface of the water. I stepped farther in. Deeper.

The water was up to my neck, and I had to jump on my toes to stay afloat, until finally I kicked my legs up and floated on the surface. I didn't know how long I stayed like that, occasionally propelling myself across the water with my feet, seeing ripples rise and wash on my skin. I wasn't angry anymore. I was strangely calm instead, like nothing bad could happen. Not on my birthday. I heard Jamie come back into the water a few times, pull on my hair and ask me to play with him, but I ignored him, and eventually he went away. Even Mum stopped calling out every few minutes, asking how Al was doing. She left me alone to my own thoughts.

The sky was robin's-egg-blue and dotted with little white puffs of clouds. They seemed to stay still, but when I watched them carefully, I could see that they moved, and darkened. Their underbellies turned grey, then darker, almost black. They started to lengthen and uncurl, like snakes stretching out, ready to strike.

"Lily. _Lily!_ " Jamie cried out, standing on the banks.

"What?" I asked. I started to swim towards him.

"Didn't you hear me and Mum calling for you? C'mon. We have to go home. Mum thinks it's going to rain."

"Oh. Well, all right." I was irritated with myself. I'd come to the creek, and I hadn't even tried to touch my feet to the ground. "Hold on. Just a second." I shoved Al into Jamie's arms and swam away.

" _Lily_ ," Jamie sighed fruitlessly. He was wearing his shirt and a pair of trousers, wet to the knees, the cotton dark and stained with pond water. "Well, _I'm_ not going to hold him. He's your responsibility."

"He's been my responsibility for the entire day, Al. And it's my birthday."

"So?" James put him down on the rocky shore. "I'm not going to take care of him, either—"

"Jamie …."

"It'll be fine," he said. "Just hurry up, okay? Mum wants to go home."

I nodded and swam away, where the current was stronger and the bottom was farther down. But I didn't dive immediately after that. The haze of tranquility was starting to fade, but I still felt quiet inside.

I pointed my toes toward the ground, raised my arms above my head. The water sluiced around me as I slid down into the pool, until my foot rested easily on the sandy bottom.

I opened my eyes. Water rushed around them, but it didn't hurt. I saw the dark shapes of the clouds on the surface, and the shadow of the ledge jutting out. Al was on it, feebly trying to climb. His outline was so clear and sharp, even through the blurry water, I felt I could reach out and touch him, hold him there forever. Jamie was nowhere to be seen.

He shifted, rolling over, and in that moment, I knew he would fall. The thought had hardly come into my head when Al shifted, rolled, dropped off the ledge, disappeared beneath the surface of the water without even a ripple.

" _Al!_ " I screamed. I kicked out my legs and swam towards him. But this was deep water, so deep that not even Jamie had ventured here before. It was so dark, and it was starting to rain. I could hear my breath rushing in my ears, out of my lungs. My fingers brushed against him—once, twice—scraping off a pill on his onesie, stroking his smooth, soft cheek—his eyes wide open and staring, no bubbles coming from his mouth, he wasn't even breathing, lying there, so still—before the underwater current swept him away and he disappeared from my sight.

I breached the surface and breathed, sucking in great lungfuls of air. Mum was screaming, and Jamie was just standing there, his face drawn and pale. I crawled up the rocks and huddled on the shore. The picnic basket was torn, shredded, the contents scattered everywhere. Mum's belt was broken, and her trousers were hanging loose. She had been looking for her wand, and I remembered it, lying on the floor by a knitting needle while we got some powder for the Floo.

"Lily," Mum cried. "Lily, Lily."

I steeled myself, waiting for her recriminations, her blame. But there was none. Just her arms around me, warm on my cold skin, her tears salting my face, and the feeling of guilt, thick in my stomach, my throat.

James had stood up, and we stared at each other, around Mum hugged around me. He was not crying. But he understood.

"Mum," he said quietly. "Mum."

Mum snapped up, her back stiffening, then turned to look at him.

"James." Her throat was dry and hoarse.

"We—we should go home, right? Get Dad, and—"

"Yes. Yes." She shook herself. "Of course. Go get your shoes, Lily, James."

We trooped together through the forest, on the dirt road dark with rain. James and I were drooping with our guilt and fatigue, but Mum was alert and upright, scanning the trees with her eyes, as if she expected to find Al there, stuffed in the branches somewhere.

JAMES

I didn't know what to do, what to expect. Part of me was scared that Dad or Mum would hate me because it had been my fault. But neither of them said anything. Instead, they were worried, frantic, didn't address me or Lily at all. Mum and Dad and a bunch of other people went to the creek to search, leaving me and Lily and Rose and Hugo alone with Aunt Audrey. Lucy and Molly were off at Hogwarts, so we were left alone.

Lily looked at me solemnly, her eyes wide and scared. "James, I'm so _sorry_ —"

I wondered why she hadn't said that to Mum and Dad, earlier when they were here.

"It's okay, Lily, all right?" I said, trying to reassure her. Rose and Hugo were off in another room, playing by themselves. I didn't want them to hear her blame herself.

"Look. It's going to be okay."

"No, it's not, Jamie," she cried out. I shushed her, but she ignored me. "He's dead, Jamie. Al's dead. I killed him."

"You didn't. It was my fault—I should have kept a closer eye on him—"

"We both killed him, then," she said.

"You're being ridiculous, Lily," I said. "We didn't kill him. I didn't kill him. It was an accident, okay? Mum and Dad don't blame us—"

"They should," she muttered. "We should've kept him safe. We didn't, Jamie. He _died_ because of us."

And all my anger went away as she stared at me, her eyes dry but piercing. Only guilt and shame were left. We'd failed him. I'd failed him. Lily was just a kid; she didn't know what she was doing. I was the oldest. I was supposed to protect them.

"Just—don't blame yourself, okay?" I sighed, though I knew that wouldn't help. A part of me was hoping that this was all just a dream, and I'd wake up tomorrow morning to find Al sleeping comfortably, curled up in his crib. "Go to sleep. It's getting late."

Lily sighed, but climbed on the bed. I turned off the lights and curled up next to her. Her breath was warm on my shoulder.

"Happy birthday, Lily," I said.

She scowled, but kissed my cheek.

LILY

They didn't find him that night, and they didn't find him in the morning, either. They searched for a week. Every day, Mum and Dad would Apparate us to the creek and make us stay there until nighttime, asking us again and again what had happened, what we had done. James and I would sit on the ledge where Al had fallen to his death, staring listlessly at the water, until Mum and Dad roused us to follow the current, follow the stream to its end.

They found him on the sixth day. By this time, the Ministry officials and the Healers and even the uncles and aunts had abandoned the search. There were only the four of us left.

It was Dad who found him. It was almost sunset, and cold. Summer was long over, and not even Mum's warming charms could keep us from shivering. But Mum and Dad were still gamely walking the banks, waving their wands out in front of them, though even they were losing hope.

The bright beams of light shining from their wands skittered across the surface, before one of them paused over a dark shadow hidden in a cranny.

"Ginny!" Dad said. He waved his wand, muttered a few words. Mum Apparated over as the shadow rose, gained substance.

The body—I couldn't think of it as _Al_ anymore—was shrouded in darkness, but as James and I approached it, is features sharpened. Cleared.

I shivered, and James wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

The corpse's skin was gray, like the color of the clouds, but had none of their smoothness. He looked dark and squished and mottled, and I couldn't help but look away.

Everyone was silent. I heard Dad's voice trembling as he said, " _Accio_ Albus." The faint sound of Mum's cry. James's arm around me tightened.

Dad conjured up a long piece of cloth and wrapped it around him, until all I could see was a small purple bundle curled up in Dad's arm.

"Come on," he said. "It's time to leave."

We walked toward him and Apparated away, Albus nestled against my side.

JAMES

The funeral was small, though it was trumpeted in the Daily Prophet and advertised for days. Mum and Dad put out a notice asking for privacy, but we could still hear people wandering around the outskirts of the wards.

Albus's coffin looked so small and bare, light enough for Dad to carry all by himself. The burial site was already dug, the headstone lying beside it.

The funeral was a blur. All I could remember was the dull _thunk_ of the grave landing on the ground. Mum's tears. And Lily, standing beside me, both of us silent and dry-eyed. This time, she was the one who offered comfort, reaching out and holding my hand in hers.

It was over soon, and for that I was glad. I couldn't bear it, and neither could she. We were the last to go up, and after we walked up there and muttered a few words of regret, it was done. Mum Apparated us away, Dad dispelled the wards, and we left, leaving nothing else but a bare patch of soil, dotted by a single stone marker.

LILY

I mostly slept in Jamie's room after that. Mum and Dad didn't know, or understood, and James seemed to like the company. Jamie's eighteenth birthday had been in April, during his seventh year at Hogwarts. Now that it was almost September, it was almost time for him to leave home. I didn't want him to go, and while Jamie had been enthusiastic about it earlier this summer, he seemed disappointed about the prospect now.

"When are you leaving?" I asked, though I already knew the date.

"September first," he said. Three weeks later.

"Owl me when you get there," I said.

"You know I will." His voice was calm. Reassuring.

"Where are you going?"

"Didn't I tell you?" he said. "America."

"I know, but _where._ "

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe … California?"

"It's so far away," I said. Because of Voldemort, people from Britain weren't allowed to often visit other countries. Flying was restricted—not that many people did it anyway—and using the Floo was only rarely allowed.

"I know," he said. "Don't worry. It's going to be okay."

I closed my eyes and tried so hard to believe him.

JAMES

It was … weird, sleeping with my sister. Not bad. Just odd, in a way that made me blush when I thought about it and feel vaguely strange in my stomach. I felt glad that Mum and Dad didn't know. This was something I felt they shouldn't know about. Private, like the secrets between us.

She spent the nights in my arms, and I would comfort her, soothe her, wipe away her tears and listen to her cry. I didn't mind it, of course. I was her older brother. It was my duty, and I needed to do it, even if it made me uncomfortable. Even if I didn't want to.

Sometimes I'd wake up to find myself half-hard, or feel the warm weight of her breast against my side or my arm. I'd always stiffen and move away, afraid that she would catch me. If she did, and she left for her own bed—or worse, tell Mum and Dad—I wouldn't know what to do. Not only was I a murderer, but I was a pervert, too.

But sometimes she'd do things that made me suspect she wasn't actually asleep. Her eyes would shift under her eyelids, or she'd push against me right when I was thinking of moving away. Or she'd smile, and I'd wonder if she was awake, or just having a pleasant dream.

LILY

The first time it happened, I was not afraid. I was never afraid when it came to Jamie; I just couldn't be. I was just about awake and almost happy when I felt his arm around me shift, the bulge of his cock through his pyjamas resting against the curve of my arse.

I didn't do anything, just breathed, until he moved away. But then I tried to wake up earlier, so I could feel him against me until he moved away.

After a while, the pauses became longer, until one early morning I took his hand and opened my eyes, staring back at his shocked gaze.

He didn't say anything, and neither did I. But after that, he no longer moved away.

Sometimes I wondered, nowadays, why we never did anything more than that. Maybe it was Mum and Dad, sleeping soundly in the next room with no idea of what we were doing. Or maybe it was Albus, dead for two weeks but still very much present, a vengeful ghost with vines for legs and coals for eyes, watching over us in jealousy. Jamie told me this was silly. Al had passed on peacefully to the afterlife, and even if he were a ghost, ghosts were harmless and he was retarded. What could he do to us?

It didn't reassure me, but I appreciated the effort, and told him so by leaning close and letting his erection rest on my thigh.

It was the last night, and in the morning he would leave. I thought maybe I should do something special for him, but I couldn't think of anything. The only thing he wanted—the only thing _we_ wanted—was for Al to be alive. And I couldn't do that for him, no matter how much I tried. So I held him instead, and he held me tight in silence, until I drifted away to sleep.

When I woke up, it was still dark outside, but James was gone.

JAMES

The Floo to America malfunctioned, and I ended up in Indonesia. It took me two months to figure out where I was and how to get back home, but by that time I didn't want to leave. My wand snapped in Riau three weeks later, and for some reason I never replaced it. I didn't think I needed to, anyway.

I sent a letter to Mum and Dad every couple months through the Muggle mail, just so they wouldn't be concerned, but I never visited them. And I never sent Lily anything. I knew this hurt them, but I'd like to think they understood.

Time went on. I learned to speak Indonesian without an accent. I bought a flat in a high-rise in Jakarta. I put away my broom and bought a car, a red Audi upholstered in leather I parked out by the curb. I went to university. Got a job. Bought an umbrella for the rain.

It was a hot day in May, yet rain was pounding on the sidewalk. I could almost see the steam coming off it as it evaporated in the heat. My wingtips were drenched, the socks wet up to the ankle, though I was riding the taxi home.

"Rainy day today, eh?" the driver asked. I didn't respond.

Jakarta looked grey and soaked through the window, dotted with spots of rain. The weather was awful, but many people were still standing outside, poor sods who hadn't managed to catch a taxi. They looked formless, mostly indistinguishable to my eyes, until I saw a woman with long, red hair standing in a doorway, her arm held out and head held high.

It was Lily. It _had_ to be. I knew it deep in my bones, like how Lily had known, back during that day at the creek. And I also knew that I would never see her again.

"Stop the car!" I yelled.

The woman shook her head, frustrated, and walked away.

"Didn't you hear me?" I said. "Stop the car. I need to get out!" I jiggled the handle fruitlessly, but the driver didn't respond.

"'Ey, man, I'm not gonna—you paid me to—"

But the door was weak, and a few seconds later I popped the lock open. I jumped out the door, ignoring the driver's cries behind me. But the woman had turned the corner, and she was gone.

I ran faster, splashing through puddles and gutter water, until I saw a flash of red in the corner of my eye. I was crying, and my tears mixed with the rain and rolled down my cheeks. Everything was a blur. I couldn't see.

"Lily!" I said hopelessly. I'd missed her so much. I loved her so much. I would kiss her. Marry her. Anything she wanted. I was thirty-nine years old, and more than twenty years had passed since that day on the ledge. "Lily—Lily, please—"

She stopped, turned around.

I waited in breathless silence for her to tell me what to do.

She smiled at me.

Then she waved.


End file.
